Valka's Saga
by Phoenix Lam
Summary: I started as a writer with no inspiration. Then, the storm came. My life was about to change...and to think, my biggest worry had been whether or not they put enough cream in my latte... Buliwyf/OC Please review and enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: Of Starbucks and Secrets

I'm walking down the street, right now. The sky is bluer than I have ever seen it, like someone just took a bucket of paint and let it run slowly across the heavens. The sun came down in thick shafts that caught the dust. The rays flirted with the golden leaves as the wind ran about, rounding the corners of buildings with a howl. Slowly, I unzipped the dark blue hoodie I wore and slipped it down, so that my arms were bare to the crisp air of 7:30 in the morning. It was cold, but the sunlight was warm on my skin—a feeling I had come to relish, much like a child who meets success at the cookie jar. I put my headphones in my ears and pressed play, slipping my iPod into my pocket once I set it on repeat. The Sound of Swing by Fragment Eight began to play. I walked a little faster now, the music giving me energy. There weren't many people around at this hour. Those that were rode in cars—going to work, the lucky ducks. I was unemployed, and had been for almost a year. Much too long, even for a person like me, who preferred solitude. I was even finding it difficult to enjoy my hobby: writing. It was something that, until recently, I had loved to do. Now, I was lucky if I could even think about going out to get some inspiration. I hadn't put words to paper in at least ten months. It was depressing, but I didn't have much time to dwell on it.

The Starbucks in front of me was warm as I stepped inside, quiet conversation and acoustic guitar greeting my ears once I had removed my headphones. Coffee mingled with pastries and my favorite scent: wood smoke. Someone must have brought it in from outside. I walked up to the counter and smiled at the pretty girl with blonde hair, who couldn't have been more than eighteen. Not that I was old—my twenty-third birthday had just come and went last week.

"Morning," I said to her. The nametag said Venora…she must have been new; I didn't recognize her.

"What can I get for you?" She asked, her voice reminding me of gulls on a beach.

"Just a café mocha and a slice of pumpkin bread," I told her, sticking again with my usual order.

"And you?" She spoke to someone behind me.

"We're separate," A smooth, low voice said. "But I'll have the same, it sounds good."

I inclined my head towards him with a smile, but didn't turn.

"Is that to go?" Venora asked me.

I thought for half a second. "Yeah, it's to go."

She nodded. I paid her and waited for a minute, taking this chance to look at the fellow who'd spoken earlier. The first thing I noticed was his size. He was easily six foot four, if not more. He had fine blonde hair that looked almost like white gold near his face. His eyes were alert, the same blue as the sky, set into a face that was ruggedly handsome, with a bit of stubble on his jaw and upper lip. What I did not expect was the pair of silver spectacles that sat on the bridge of his straight nose. They looked like reading glasses; not something he wore all the time. They brought a scholarly feel to his character, and it seemed strange. After a moment, I looked away, my order ready. He cast his gaze on me, the faintest of smiles on his lovely mouth.

"Enjoy that," He said.

"Same to you," I replied.

With that, I left, back out into the cold, unsure of my next destination.

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I spent the better part of the day wandering. I found myself at the beach, a couple of miles from the center of town. It was always so nice here—far enough away to be quiet, but close enough to be convenient. The beach itself was lonely this time of year, with only a few dog-walkers and sea-glass hunters. My favorite spot was beneath a tree that grew out of a sandstone ridge, forming a grass-covered hill between me and the rest of the world. I sat here and watched the waves for a while. It was about five PM when my cell phone shook in my pocket, my mom on the other line.

"How was your day?" She asked me.

"Just fine, Mom," I said, missing her song-like voice. "I'll be heading home soon—"

There was a beep, and I pulled the phone from my ear. The screen flashed, an empty battery on the front. Then, all was dark.

"Great."

I shoved it back into my purse, where it fell between my journal, a pen, some Kleenex, my wallet. I looked around and noticed that I was the only one here. One glance up told me why. The sky was black, clouds roiling above me like a swarm of angry wasps. The next set of events happened in a span of about three seconds.

Lightning struck the tree I sat under; I could feel the ground shake. I was thrown backwards by the force of it, my spine slamming into the sandstone wall behind me…and yet, for some reason, I hadn't landed yet. It was a full two seconds before I hit solid ground, but blackness overcame me a moment later.

When next I woke, I realized what had happened. I hit the sandstone, but it had broken. Behind the impact and about five feet down, I had landed in a cave of sorts. It looked like it had been dug—the decayed, splintered remains of what I assumed was a ladder lay near my feet. No doubt it was once used to climb in and out. Someone had obviously, however, closed up the entrance long ago. I saw only what the light in the entrance revealed, which wasn't much. The air in here was musty, but at least it was dry. There didn't seem to be any life in here, not even an insect, which I was grateful for. I remembered with a sinking feeling that my cell phone was dead, and as I looked down at my purse I saw blood running down my arm and my left leg.

"Think, Laur," I said to myself, my voice echoing against the cave walls. "You were in Girl Scouts for a long time, what did they tell you to do?"

Of course, survival skills came second or third to selling cookies and helping your neighbors, if they came at all. My mind was racing, and so was my adrenaline, which probably contributed to the lack of pain. Option two, what did they do in the movies? I took off my hoodie and t-shirt, examining my arms. The gash was about halfway up my left arm, near my shoulder. All the blood, I realized with a wave of relief, was coming from there. At least my leg was fine. I tore a section of my shirt and tied it around my arm. Bleeding contained: check.

"Hello!" I called. "Is anyone up there! I need help!"

No answer. I called until my lungs were burning, until my voice was hoarse.

"Come on!" I said, more to the heavens, now. "Give me a sign, or something!"

There was a loud crack, and the tree above me was struck again. I heard a slow, bending sound as the wood splintered. The trunk fell over the entrance, shielding it with leaves and branches. Now, I was lucky if anyone would even see the hole.

"I hate you!" I cried to the sky. "You hear me? I hate you!"

Thunder crashed, but that was all. With no other choice, I replaced my shirt and hoodie, and, using my purse as a pillow, lay down for a night of very uncomfortable sleep.

With the arrival of morning, I could see to the back of the cave. The whole thing was about twenty feet long, and sparse in content. What I deemed to be a bed was in one corner, the wooden supports broken and sagging. A mattress of hay wrapped in linen was barely held together, the seams frayed and split. There were a couple of crude stools and a round table, along with what looked like a fire pit near the entrance, no doubt so the smoke could filter out. What caught my attention was the shelves. They lined the walls, and, while mostly empty, what was there couldn't have been anything recent. I realized with awe that the cave I was now stuck in must have been at least a thousand years old, if not more. How had it survived? I rolled my eyes. Of course! If it had been walled up all this time, no wonder it was preserved. No animals or insects could get in, no fresh air to speed up decay, no weather to ruin the many pages that were left on the shelves. I walked over to a chest—a simple wooden square with four legs, metal slats over its front—and lifted the latch. If I was stuck here, why not look around, right?

My breath caught in my throat. The chest was filled with papers, covered everywhere with runes. On top of these was an amulet on a thick leather cord. I knew it to be a unicursal Valknut—though, how I knew this was a mystery to me. I had never studied anything having to do with the Vikings. I moved the amulet and gently picked up one of the papers. I expected the document to crumble in my hand, but it did not. I looked at the runes for a long moment, and then something strange happened. They shifted, right before my eyes, and formed English words. What I was now reading was a story—or was it an autobiography? The severity of my situation—my hunger, my pain, my loneliness—all went away as I began to read, immersing myself in someone else's world so as not to confront the darkness in my own.

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**I will die here; I know that now. Having lived a good life, it does not concern me over-much. The All-Father wove the skein of our lives a long time ago; our fates are fixed. This is what Herger said to the Arab that night in the Hall, which seems so long ago. How I ended up here after what we went through, I cannot say. The only certainty is that I must leave my tale so that others will know it. Only then can I go to Valhalla and be with those I love. Still, in order to tell a good story, it is essential to start at the beginning…**


	2. Chapter 2: Valka's Beginning

Valka, some call me. I was born at sea, during the heat of summer. The sea was familiar to me before I knew what land was, and it seems strange that I meet my end in a cave beneath the earth. My mother, whose name I did not know, died shortly after delivering me into this plane of existence. My father was Voltarr, a great ship captain; he was respected on sea and on land. I was fortunate, in that sense, for I would never be cast away should I require aid. However, being a woman, I was looked over when choosing warriors for battles or great voyages. It was the way of things, and looking back on it I cannot say I blame them; superstition was everywhere. Still, having no sons, my father taught me the way of the sword, and the shield, and the bow. As I grew older I ignored my womanhood in favor of new weapons. At the age of twenty, I had found my favorite axes—I wielded them with grace and strength, one in each hand.

My Father's attention, however, had drifted to more pressing matters. He spoke of this to me, one morning, as our ship came into port.

"Twenty is far too old, Valka," He said, his hand running idly through his thick red beard. "You should have children running about your feet now! A house and husband to care for, at least!"

"Father," I said sharply, the wind whipping my auburn hair into my face. "You know that I do not wish for a husband."

"Aye," He said. "But I am your father, Valka, and you will marry if I say so."

I sighed, resigned. Of course, I must not go against him.

He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "Go now and dress properly, girl."

I went below deck and did as he asked, donning a slate blue apron over a plain linen kirtle. I plaited two sections of hair into braids, letting the rest hang freely. I pulled on a pair of short leather boots, and proceeded to catch up to my father, who was already on the rocky shore. Tents had been set up here, and I could hear the merrymaking inside. An empty ship was just offshore, and I knew this was a funeral.

"Father," I asked, taking hold of his arm, as I always did. "Did you know of this?"

He nodded. "It is the funeral for Hygilliak, the King of these parts. He was known to me."

He did not miss the worried look that landed on my brow, furrowing it into wrinkles.

"Do not worry, daughter," He said quietly. "We will be welcomed here."

Of course, he was right. One thing I learned about my father is that he was rarely wrong. Some of the guests looked up as we entered, but most were too full of ale to bother. I could barely hear myself think above the noise and the music. There were two men seated at the head of a long table—they must have been the heirs apparent. The one on the right, a sour looking fellow, grabbed a large chunk of bread from the tray of a serving girl as she passed. My father paid no notice, but instead walked past the table, casting only a passing glance over a man who was dressed strangely. He wore long dark robes, and another over his head, secured at the top with a strange string of bones. His skin was the color of the earth, and he was not alone. There was a second man, in lighter robes. They were conversing with a third, but he was a Northman….speaking Vulgar Latin, if my ears heard me correctly…

"_Herger_?" I asked him. "_Is that you_?"

I spoke our language, and the oddly dressed ones looked confused.

The Northman looked up and a grin came to his face. He sprang to his feet and embraced me. He had been a friend of mine since childhood—he came from a family of traders, who took many, if not all of their voyages under the captainship of my father.

"_Valka_!" He cried into my shoulder. "_The seas did not claim you, after all_!"

I smiled as we parted. "_No, my friend, they did not. Tell me your tales from abroad! I see they taught you Latin!_"

He smiled. "_It is all these outsiders understand. Arabs, from the desert lands._"

I grimaced distastefully. I did not like outsiders.

"_Come, come,_" He said to me. "_Sit!_"

I joined them at the table, and we began to talk. After a few moments, one of the men at the head of the table called down to us. He looked so familiar, particularly the bright blue eyes in his face.

"_Herger!_" He said, his strong voice carrying easily over the noise. "_Introduce me to that Arab!_"

Herger spoke some more in Latin, followed by strange, strangled sounds from the Arabs as they conversed together. I realized later that this was their language. I picked up one word: Buliwyf. No wonder the man looked familiar!

_My mind flashed back ten years, when spring had come finally after a long winter to our homeland._

"_Herger!" I called to the child running ahead of me, who was thirteen years of age. "Wait for me! Your legs are too long!"_

"_Run faster, little Valka!" He called over his shoulder, his golden hair shaggy as ever._

_I willed my legs to carry me quicker. My lungs were burning as I caught up to him. We stood now at the edge of a clearing, the grass bright green in the sun. Two men were at the center, each with a sword and shield. The one on the left was tall, with white-gold hair that came to just above his shoulders. A ways behind him, he had one shield remaining. His opponent had two. The darker haired man was short and stocky; his arms were as thick as his shoulders were broad. It did not seem like a very even match, to me. The blonde warrior was younger, yes, but he was taller and had not yet filled out. It made him look like a sapling next to the darker man. He was almost lanky, and I imagined him tripping over his own limbs as he went to swing his sword. I laughed, trying without success to hide it._

"_This is not a laughing matter!" Herger said to me, his voice high and hoarse with the coming of manhood. "He could get hurt!"_

"_I take it that man is your friend?" I asked Herger once my laughter had ceased, pointing to the younger of the two._

_He nodded. "That is Buliwyf, son of the King. He fights with this man to earn the right to court his sister."_

_I made a face. "I would rather play than fight," I said._

_Herger laughed at me. "You don't have to worry about fighting, Valka. Come on, I'll race you to the stables!"_

_He laughed and ran ahead of me. I took one last look at the one called Buliwyf, who caught my gaze and winked. I ran after Herger, and to this day I do not know who won the match._

My mind returned to present day as a pair of serving girls began to dance, swaying their hips to the music. I watched them for a minute, and then was brought back to the conversation by another loud call from up the table.

"Tell him I want a song," Buliwyf said. "A song of glory!"

I judged by the slight slur in his words that he was a bit tipsy. Herger laughed and relayed the news to the Arabs. The dark one stood nervously, thoughtful. My attention was on him; I did not notice the sour-looking man near Buliwyf put a hand on his sword, or glare at the taller man, his eyes filled with jealously and hatred. The dour man drew his sword, but Buliwyf was quicker. He rose to his full height, which must have been at least six foot four, and caught the man's blade with his own. He knocked it down and sliced the man across the throat, before bringing the broadsword back across his chest, leaving a great gash in its wake. The man fell to the floor, dead as a stone.

Of course, the Northmen around us acted like nothing had happened. The poor Arab in dark robes looked ready to jump out of his skin, while his companion remained calm. I had guessed the older of the two had seen this before—he knew enough to keep his composure. I whispered to Herger as my father approached.

"_Does that mean Buliwyf is the new King_?"

Herger smiled at me. "_Girl, must you be so naïve? Of course that's what that means. Now, have a drink with me, and don't concern yourself with such things_."

I rolled my eyes, but did not pass up the horn of honey-mead as it was offered to me. The drink was sweet and strong, leaving a warm rush of heat in my throat. Herger returned his attentions to the serving wench as the Arabs stood, leaving the tent. I rolled my eyes, and was caught off guard as a man took a seat next to me. He was broad shouldered and well built, his shaggy hair and beard reminding me of a bear. He wore a leather breastplate over his chest, making him look bigger than he already was. Buliwyf slid down the table to sit across from him.

"Helfdane," He said, holding out his hand in greeting.

The larger man took it. "Buliwyf, it has been too long! What is the tally?"

Buliwyf thought for a moment. "I believe I was winning."

"Bah, you say that now! We shall see!"

They placed their elbows on the table, and I realized they meant to wrestle. Herger, eager for a show, turned round and watched intently.

"No cheating," He said to the men. "Valka, would you do the honors?"

He wanted me to start the challenge. I could have throttled him right there for embarrassing me, but I smiled instead. I held a hand in the air, the men's hands tightening in anticipation.

"Go!"

At first, there was silence as they concentrated. Helfdane's face turned red after a minute of struggle, and he came very close to pushing Buliwyf's arm onto the table. Buliwyf cried out as his wrist was inches from the wood, the cry continuing as he gained a lead. Their hands were back in the starting position, but not for long. Buliwyf wrestled Helfdane's arm with a growl, finally slamming his hand down onto the table with a last burst of strength.

"Valka," Herger said to me. "You must determine the winner!"

We all knew who won the match, but it was a formality. A woman should choose the victor, because a man was more likely to cheat. It was an important role.

I gave an apologetic look to Helfdane, and touched Buliwyf's arm. The larger man didn't seem to mind, smiling and cheering with the rest of us. My attention was on Helfdane for a time, as he regaled us with a tale of strength from his youth.

Suddenly, my eyes flew to the entrance. Standing there was a tall man with curly red hair, tattoos on his face. Keen grey eyes were set off by his dark leather clothes, and my heart swelled to see him again. I cried out my cousin's name, and flew to meet him.

"Skeld!"

He smiled widely as I ran, lifting me from the ground in an embrace and spinning me round.

"Valka! Gods above, how you've grown!"

"I missed you, cousin!" I said, tears of joy in my eyes. "We had not heard from you in so long!"

He placed me on the ground, and held my face in one hand. "Aye," He said, apology written in his eyes. "I did not mean to disappear on you."

I smiled. "It doesn't matter now."

Herger clapped Skeld on the shoulder as we approached. "Where on Odin's head have you been, Skeld?"

My cousin laughed. "More places than I care to count. This service was a long one, indeed."

Skeld spoke to the questioning looks from Helfdane and Buliwyf.

"I was called North," He said. "As far as the High Mountains."

Helfdane let a low whistle escape his lips. "That is far, friend. What madness brought you there?"

Skeld gave a short laugh. "You will hear of it, soon enough. It is not my message to deliver."

Herger called for another round of honey mead, which none of us objected to. We talked well into the evening, and soon it was time to bid farewell to Hygilliak.

At the end of the night, the funeral procession began. The Old King was carried to his ship by six men; a young woman in white held his belongings and followed behind. Herger was speaking to the Arabs in Latin again, no doubt telling them what was happening. The woman, who would accompany the fallen King to Valhalla, was lifted into the air as she recited each line of the sacred prayer.

_Lo, gjør der jeg ser min far.  
>Lo, gjør der jeg ser min mor, mine søstre og mine brødre.<br>Lo, gjør der jeg ser ledningen av mitt folk, tilbake til å_ _begynne.  
>Lo, de kaller til meg.<br>De byr meg tar mitt sted p__å__ Asgard i hallene av Valhalla, Hvor den modige kan leve for evig!_

When she was done, the fires were lit, and all was silent.

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My second night in the cave was a bit easier, thanks to Valka's story. Still, I was starving, and all I had in my purse was a bottle of water, which I wasn't about to drink more than a couple sips of. What I couldn't understand was why I could read these runes. It sounded to me like she was talking about a Viking funeral, if my fifth-grade knowledge of Leif Erikson still held fast. That would mean that the words and events, assuming they were true, took place in the ninth or tenth century.

_What are the odds of a find like this one?_

With that thought, I became protective of my newly found discovery. This morning, I had tried to lift myself out of the entrance. With my injured arm, my efforts had proved useless. Even standing on one of the stools, I couldn't pull myself out. I called again and again, but no one was around to hear me. I wished with my whole heart that I hadn't eaten that slice of pumpkin bread. Even worse, the bugs and who knows what else would find their way in here eventually. The thought gave me a skin-crawling sensation that began in my arms and went all the way to my feet. To avoid thinking about such things, I slept. When it was morning, I read, and when the sun was setting, I prayed and called out, my voice falling on the sea, who was both deaf and blind.


	3. Chapter 3: Semantics

The next morning, after standing before his ship for the better part of an hour, a young boy entered the tent. He introduced himself to Buliwyf as Wulfgar, the younger son of Hrothgar, who ruled a city far to the North. He told us that his city was plagued by an evil that has no name…I shudder to think of it. This must have been what Skeld fought in the High Mountains. Fighting back tears, the boy pleaded for help against this terror. There was a deep silence, and finally Buliwyf called for the Angel of Death. At the name, I thought I saw the color drain from the Arabs' faces. She was an oracle; deaf, blind, and bent with years beyond count. She overturned a turtle shell that she held in her gnarled hands. Bones, carved with runes and symbols, fell to the floor. She flung herself upon them like a wild dog descends upon meat. Her voice was strangled as she called out, her words echoed in the silence. Thirteen warriors, she said, must go. She held up a bone in her claw-like hand.

"_Who will be the first man?_"

Buliwyf volunteered. Then the second, then the third, then the fourth. When time came for the fifth, I saw a young boy prepare to stand. He could not have been more than twelve, and if this unnamed enemy was the one I feared, he would never survive. Before the boy could rise, I stood up.

"_I will be the fifth man_," I said, noticing the defeated face of the boy, and the relief of his mother, as he returned to his chair.

The men were hesitant to cheer as loudly as they had for the others, but the Angel of Death smiled and handed me the bone, which I took and held tightly. Buliwyf's eyes were on me, but I could not read his gaze. I smiled and cheered with the others as Herger took the bone of the Eleventh man, spilling his horn of mead as he did so. Skeld, after some hesitation, took up the call for the twelfth man. The last man, the Angel said, could be no Northman. Automatically, and with no say at all, the dark-robed Arab was picked as the 13th warrior.

I had returned to the ship, making preparations just as the other men did. I now wore armor, and a thick fur cloak whose hood covered my face; my axes were crossed over my shoulders. I walked toward the tent, growing nervous. I did not have a horse, as the other men did. Skeld led his mount before him, leading a second behind.

"This one," He told me, tugging on the reins of a great grey gelding with white speckles on his rump. "Is for you. He carried one of our company through the High Mountains, and he is a good horse, even though his rider fell."

"Does he have a name?" I asked, taking the reins and stroking his mane—which, like his tail, was black as night.

Skeld just shrugged as he mounted his own horse. I scratched the gelding's ear and whispered.

"I will call you Aska, I think."

The gelding blew air from his nostrils; I took the snort as a sign of approval. I mounted quickly, looking down at my father as he approached.

"_How will you get married fighting in Hrothgar's city?"_ He asked me, a smile on his face.

"_Do not worry, Voltarr," _Herger said. _"I will keep her company."_

"_That is what I am afraid of," _Father replied.

The men laughed. Buliwyf was the last to come out of the tent. He stopped when he reached my father, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear. My father gave a stern nod, and then Buliwyf mounted his horse. Herger spoke to the Arab, who had just been fuming over his horse being compared to a dog. It was a small mount, to be sure, but I saw the control the Arab had over her—he would not falter so easily, I did not think. Buliwyf asked Herger what the Arab's name was.

"I am _Ahmed ibn_ Fahdlan _ibn al__-_Abbas _ibn_Rasid _ibn_Hammad," The Arab said.

The only thing I caught was "Eben", which Herger repeated to Buliwyf. No matter what we called him, I was certain of one thing: this was going to be a very long journey.

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Many of the men were gathered around the campfire that night. Edgtho, our scout who spoke very little, threw down an armful of kindling he had been carrying before seating himself next to Helfdane. The large man was friendly to me, reminding me in many ways of a kinder version of my father. Rather than socialize, I remained outside the circle, busying myself with my whittling instead. The Arab, I noticed, was watching the men intently. He had his eyes on their mouths, like he was trying to read their lips as they spoke our language. I couldn't help but be impressed at his determination.

"Walk with me?" Buliwyf's voice in my ear, more of a statement than a question.

I followed him. We made a wide, slow circle around the camp.

"What do you think of this quest?" He asked me, his words low and measured.

I did not reply. He looked over to me, and must have seen the worry in my face.

"Do not be afraid to speak to me, girl," He said.

I nodded. "I did not think that the Wendol remained in this land."

I said the name of the creatures in a whisper, but Buliwyf did not flinch.

"Why did you come, then?"

I sighed. "To avoid getting married, partly."

Buliwyf laughed, a sound that mirrored his voice of low thunder.

"You are a woman," He said to me. "If your father wishes it of you, there is no argument. You know this."

I frowned. "I remember you, from long ago. I was a child, then. Herger and I watched you fight a man for the right to court is sister."

He thought for a moment, and I saw visible recognition cross his face.

"You looked at me," He said.

"Yes. Did you win?"

Buliwyf shook his head. "No. I was too clumsy; her brother was the only victor."

I smiled. He was not clumsy, now. On the contrary, he moved with a grace I had not expected to find in a warrior. He had grown comfortable in his own skin, and become the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

"You are close to Skeld?" He asked me after a silence.

"He is my cousin," I said. "I care for him very much. We thought him dead, after so long in the High Mountains. It was a great relief to see him alive."

"He is very…superstitious." I could tell Buliwyf had been searching for the right word.

I laughed, and that seemed to ease some of the tension in his shoulders. "Aye, he is that. His beliefs are his own."

"You have no siblings, then? I only saw you with your father."

"None."

He chuckled. "I cannot imagine a man dueling with Skeld for your affections."

"They did not last long," I agreed with a smile. "He is a good fighter."

Buliwyf was about to reply, when a loud voice interrupted.

"Valka!" Helfdane called out from the campfire, about fifteen feet away. "Valka, come and tell us of your voyage to Warm Country!"

Buliwyf did not stop me as I turned to go. Helfdane clapped me on the shoulder as I took a seat between him and Edgtho.

"It was not an easy voyage," I said. "The storms were angry, as if Odin himself forbid us venture out."

"Worst case of sea stomach I've ever had!" Herger said, to the roaring laughter of the others.

"What were the people like?" Skeld asked.

"Their language was strange, like that of this Arab. Their clothing was bright, bizarre colors like nothing we have here. The men were ugly, for the most part, but clean."

The others laughed.

"The women!" One named Roneth cried. "Tell us about the women!"

"Not much too tell, really," I said, bringing about more laughter. "I only saw the eyes of some."

Skeld spoke again. "No matter," He said. "It was probably just some smoke-colored camp girl! Like that one's mother!"

He pointed to the Arab as he said this last line.

What came next startled us all. The Arab, silent for so many days and nights, spoke up.

"My mother…was…pure woman. From…a noble family, and I…at least…know who my father is, you pig-eating son-of-a-whore."

Skeld rose to his feet and ran toward him, fury in his eyes. He was restrained by Helfdane and Edgtho, while Herger confronted the Arab.

"Where did you learn our language?" He asked him warily.

The Arab stood up, moving to within inches of Herger's face.

"I listened!"

Herger laughed after a moment, and continued laughing as he sat down again, adding another log to the fire. Skeld stormed off, and I knew he would not take kindly to this insult. I debated following him, and Helfdane seemed to see the struggle on my face.

"Best to let him go, Valka," He said to me.

I nodded. Helfdane was probably right, and he knew Skeld less than I. I returned instead to my whittling, using Aska as a model. Later, I saw Buliwyf and the Arab speaking some distance away, then drawing symbols into the sand. I knew how to write our language, as well as read. I had my father to thank for this. Slowly, I walked to my horse. I brought my hand up to his face and stroked it in long, slow movements. He whinnied at me, sniffing my palm for any food.

"Nothing today, friend," I said to him. "You'll have to wait until we reach Hrothgar."

I moved to the Arab's horse, who was standing next to mine, a full head and shoulders smaller.

"What is so special about you?" I asked her, petting her white neck. "There must be something."

"She jumps high," The Arab said behind me. "Her gait is steady."

I looked at him and nodded. "I do not think she is a dog."

He smiled. "At least I have one friend here."

I put a hand on his shoulder. "You will have more, I think. Give them time, and you will see."

He did not seem convinced. I laughed at him and gave him a reassuring smile before leading Aska away toward a copse of trees. I took off my fur cloak and spread it on the ground. With a yawn, I lay down, my axes at my side. It was cold, and if I had planned ahead I would have brought a blanket. Aska needed his, and far be it from me to deprive him of it on such a night. Flakes began to fall—large, slow flakes that I knew would not stick into morning. I curled up and closed my eyes. The shouts of the others died down after a while, and I felt myself drifting off into sleep. Sudden warmth came over me, and without opening my eyes I felt thick fur against my cheek. It bore the aroma of wood smoke, a scent I knew as a girl and loved dearly because it reminded me of home. Footsteps walked away from me, and when I could no longer hear them, I chanced a look. Buliwyf's cloak was drawn over my shoulders. I smiled and returned to resting, the darkness of the night falling around me like a curtain.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I woke before dawn, folding Buliwyf's cloak and placing it beside his still-sleeping form. I walked down to a small creek that ran through our camp, washing my face and hands. The only one awake was Edgtho, which did not surprise me.

"Should we go?" I asked him.

"Soon," He said. "The longest part of our journey lies ahead; we must take a ship to Hrothgar's kingdom."

I nodded. The Arab would not like that.

Along the way, he demonstrated the skills of his mount to the others as we passed an abandoned farmstead. He jumped over fences and hay bales, coming at last to Weath, the Musician of the group who had spent many years in the Celtic countries. The horses cleared his mount, but not before knocking Weath face first into the mud. We all laughed, but I knew better. The Arab, with his skillful horsemanship, had gained a fair amount of respect. I'm sure that was his aim, and I knew it would please him. Herger seemed particularly fascinated with him, always stealing glances when he thought no one was looking. It was like he had never seen anything like this Arab before, but of course I knew he had. Even Skeld controlled his tongue after that.

Our first night on the ship proved to be a perilous one. I sat near the shivering Arab; rain pouring down on us as waves the size of several wagons swelled and pitched the vessel around like a toy. Helfdane, wrapped in a black cloak, walked over to us. He held out two steaming bowls of stew, which I took. I had tasted this before; I knew the smell of it. I handed one to the Arab, who hesitated.

"No pork!" I said to him, remembering his strange aversion to pig. "Venison! Deer!"

He nodded and began to eat, though it was very hot.

"This is delicious, Helfdane," I said to the cook, who smiled through a rain-soaked beard.

"It won't last more than a couple of days," He told me. "We had better hope this rain clears!"

I nodded, and continued to eat.

"Shouldn't we stay closer to land?" The Arab cried.

"No, boy!" Helfdane laughed. "This is no day to stay close to land!"

With that, he walked on, to where Herger lay, fast asleep. My father always said he could sleep through anything, on a fence-post if he had to be. Helfdane shook him roughly, trying to wake him up.

"Leave him," I said. "May as well let someone get some rest."

The cook rolled his eyes and continued on.

"You were born here, at sea?" The Arab asked me.

"On a much clearer day, yes!" I said. "It was very hot, my father tells me."

"I would prefer that!" He said. "In my country, it is always warm!"

"I do not know how you stand it," I replied. "I could not live with so much heat."

His next sentence was drowned out by a crash of thunder, and we stopped speaking after that.

"Odin!" Buliwyf called through the mists, standing at the bow. "Odin!"

"What, what is that—" The Arab started to speak to Herger, who put a hand on his back.

"Down."

Once the Arab ducked, Rethel (the archer of the group) fired a flaming arrow over his head.

"Odin!" Buliwyf called again. "Odin!"

Another fire-arrow followed the first, and this time, after a silence, there was a 'thwack' as it collided with something. We could see the flames after a moment, and Edgtho confirmed it when he called from the crow's nest:

"Land!"

"Finally!" The Arab cried.

I couldn't help but smile. Once the horses had been released from below deck, I mounted Aska in water up to my knees, trotting to shore and waiting for the others.

"Arab!" Buliwyf said once he reached land, leading his horse behind him. "Speak what I draw."

He took a stick in his hand and drew strange symbols in the sand. The Arab's language, perhaps?

"There is only one god," Eben said. "And Muhammad is his…" He leaned over and added a tail to the last symbol. "Prophet."

Buliwyf looked pleased. He nodded and mounted his horse, sending Edgtho ahead. The scout came back just moments later, his eyes alert.

"A rider," he said.

Rethel hopped from his horse, bow in hand. He placed himself behind a pine and waited for Edgtho's report as the rest of us readied our weapons. I drew my axes from their place across my back, ready for whatever came through those trees.

"Well-fed on a light mount," He continued, pausing for a moment to sniff the air. "Perfume."

"Ack," Rethel said, irritated. "A woman!"

I shot him an angry glare, but nothing more. Ragnar, a young man with good sense of humor, pointed ahead of us.

"A herald!" He said, as if in answer to Rethel's complaint.

Hyglak, a surly man with a quarrelsome disposition, scoffed as the newcomer rode up, carrying a white flag emblazoned with a red serpent.

"It's a silk-swaddled messenger boy," He said, distaste in his words.

"Tell me your names, quickly!" The herald said.

"I am son to Hygilliak, called Buliwyf! We all know of your great Lord."

The herald seemed to recognize us, then. "My Lord Hrothgar will want to welcome you himself!"

Our path laid out for us, we followed him as he led us into the trees.


	4. Chapter 4: Of War and Lust

On the morning of my second day, after I had called myself hoarse, I took out my journal and began transcribing Valka's story. I felt obligated to write it down, not only because it was a good tale, but because I felt connected to her. I had found this cave, yes, but it ran deeper than that. Explaining myself becomes more difficult, now that I am attempting it. I thought about my mother as I wrote. What was she doing right now? I wasn't hopeless, not yet. Even if no one came down to the beach, my Mom would know I was missing within a couple of days, and people would come looking for me. I just hoped I didn't have to wait too long. The wound on my arm had been re-wrapped, but to be honest I was running out of t-shirt. Not to mention I was hungry. I had done okay with water so far, but by tomorrow I was sure my difficulties would increase. I didn't even want to think about going to the bathroom. I slumped down against the wall after taking a swig of water, slipping my headphones into my ears. At least I could enjoy some music. Until that battery died, too, of course. With a defeated sigh, I picked up the rune-covered pages, and continued to read.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

We rode through Hrothgar's city, the skies above us dark grey in the fading light.

"No walls, no moat…not even a presentable fence!" I heard Rethel's voice ahead of me in the line, speaking to no one in particular.

"Women, children, not a man between fifteen and fifty," Hyglak added solemnly.

There was a great evil here, whether it was the Wendol or otherwise. We entered the Great Hall, where Hrothgar sat waiting, his queen beside him. She was not young in years, older than I, to be sure. Still, there was strength in the way she squared her shoulders, a resolve in her eyes that came easily to the married women of these parts. Also in the room was a young man who I guessed was Wyglif, Hrothgar's older son. I remembered Wulfgar speaking of him when he asked for aid. Wyglif had an angry look on his face, shooting daggers at Buliwyf in particular.

The Herald made to speak. "My Lord," He began. "This is Buliwyf…"

"I know the man," Hrothgar said, his voice like boots against a pebbled beach. "I sent for him…you've grown to a man," He continued, as Buliwyf walked forward. "Into a fine, fine man…"

Buliwyf leaned down and spoke to the king, but I did not hear his words.

I stood on the upper level of the Great Hall, watching the mountains as the sun set in earnest, leaving long trails of gold in its wake. Behind me, workers were setting up a table and chairs for us. I could smell food cooking, and I would be glad of a decent meal.

"Is it difficult, to fight alongside men?" I heard the Queen's voice.

I turned to my left—she stood there, in a white gown, looking out. Her brown hair hung to her waist; from this close I could see the many lines on her face.

"As of yet, we have not fought, My Lady," I said to her, a drop of humor in my voice.

She laughed. "You will…"

"Valka," I said, in reply to her searching words. "Daughter of Voltarr."

"I have heard of the Captain," She said. "His deeds are known, and any kin of his are welcome here. I am Queen Wielow."

I nodded, though she could not see it. My gaze moved away from the horizon, and back down to the hall. Hrothgar was there, looking around for someone. I made a guess, and spoke.

"Your husband looks for you."

She thanked me and returned to him, her hands grasping his arm. It was the same gesture I used with my father, whom I sorely missed. It had been many weeks since we left, and if the Wendol were indeed the cause of this, I doubted that all of us would return.

"What troubles you, Valka?" Buliwyf asked.

I did not turn to face him, although he had surprised me with his presence.

"They come with the mist, do they not?"

"Walk with me?"

I smiled inwardly at his repetition, but followed without a word. As we walked, I found myself closer to him, to the point where our shoulders almost touched. Our boots against the wood made the only sound for a few minutes, and I found myself enjoying the silence.

"You are afraid," He said at last.

"No! I would not have learned to fight, were I afraid."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have you been in battle before?"

I was silent; he knew the answer as well as I.

"You mustn't let them see," He told me. "Fear makes you a target, remember that. Show them no mercy, Valka, for you shall receive none."

I nodded. We came to rest back where our walk had begun. I put my hands on the rail, breathing in the evening air.

"I am afraid," I said quietly. "But your words bring me comfort, and for that I am glad."

Buliwyf put a hand over mine. His fingers and palms were calloused, but the strength of him was not. He leaned his head toward me, a lock of white-gold hair brushing my face. I felt a strange warmth in my stomach, and resisted the urge to turn my face up to him and meet his mouth. Nothing needed to be said, and so we remained there as we were for a few quiet moments.

"Valka? Buliwyf! We are ready!" I recognized Skald's voice as he called from the Hall below.

"I will go first," I offered.

He nodded, and I made my way down to the feast.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How can you sleep at a time like this?" I heard the Arab ask.

"The All-Father wove the skein of your life a long time ago," Herger replied to him. "Go hide in a hole, if you wish. You'll live not one second longer; your fate is fixed!"

I could almost hear the Arab's eyes as they rolled back into his head. I smiled, and it did not go unnoticed.

"It would seem, Herger," Edgtho said with a grin. "That you have the uncanny ability of making women happy, even if you are not speaking to them."

Herger laughed. "Do I make you happy, Valka?"

"You would make me happier if you were dead," I said to him, bringing forth laughter from the others, including the Arab. "Now leave me be, I am tired."

Herger held up his hands in defeat before folding them behind his head and closing his eyes. I do not know how much time passed, then. I drifted in and out of consciousness, and then at last I remained awake, the snores (however genuine) of the men ringing in my ears. I looked up to see Rethel perched like a hawk among the rafters. The other men had their eyes open…it would begin soon. I put my hands on the hilts of my axes, and waited. _Do not let them see; fear makes you a target. Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none._ The doors of the hall burst open, the Wendol following with the mist. They were strange creatures, with bodies of men and heads of bears. Their growls were animal, but their weapons were human. One of them charged at me, a mace held high. I threw my axe at him; it struck his chest with a loud thud. He fell backwards, motionless. I yanked it out of him, a gurgling sound issuing from his mouth. There was no rest for me, as another rushed forward with a knife. I dodged out of his way and rolled, my face getting covered with blood as Hyglak's head was torn from his shoulders. I was pinned down a moment later, the crimson in my eyes making it impossible to see. The creature on top of me forced my head to the side and began to carve into my face with his knife, just above my ear. It felt like he touched bone as he drew the blade down. I screamed, agony flaring through me like fire. My head was spinning, and I thought I would die as the blade reached my jaw…

An arrow, then another, pierced the creature's chest. He fell from me, landing on the floor and dropping the knife. The pain in my face was unbearable, but I was certainly going to die if I did not keep fighting. I felt the heat of my own blood as it ran down my face. I slashed across the chest of one, decapitating another moments after I had finished his comrade. Within minutes, it seemed like the creatures were retreating. I did not see the Arab anywhere, nor did I follow the rest of the men as they drove the creatures from the doors. When it was over, I sat down, my back braced against a pillar. Herger was seeing to the Arab, who had three deep scratches across his face. There was a strange tenderness in the way he touched his face, and I thought to ask him about it when I got the chance.

"Little Valka," Helfdane cried, running over to me. "That is a mighty wound, and one no woman should have, first battle or not!"

"Would you prefer if I went back to my father?" I asked him weakly, my vision fuzzy and my mind floating far above my body. "I can marry, have children…"

He laughed as he examined my wound. "No, I cannot see that life for you now. Come, let us see to this wound."

"I will do it," Queen Wielow spoke.

She stood near the throne at the head of the hall, leading the women and children up from a storeroom beneath, where they had hidden during our fight.

"We have lost Ragnar and Hyglak this night," I heard Edgtho saying.

"The heads?" Herger asked.

"None," Edgtho replied.

"They always take the heads…"

Wielow brought a damp cloth, as well as a needle and thread.

"You will need stitches," She said to me. "It will hurt."

"It will protect against infection," Helfdane said, as if that would make all the difference.

I watched him as he helped Skeld carry the headless Hyglak out the doors. Edgtho and Roneth followed, with the gnawed remains of Ragnar between them. Wielow began her stitches, and I didn't try to wipe the tears away as they rolled down my face. It seemed agonizing hours before she was done, but finally she put a paste of boiled-down cow urine over the wound. Gods, how it stung! There was no question that our next task would be to build defenses for the city. The Wendol would be back, and no doubt in great numbers. As soon as the Arab's wounds were tended to, our work began. The townspeople helped dig the trenches; we set to work before dawn.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I had removed my mail and leather jacket about halfway through the morning. The sun had grown hot early, and digging in the mud made it no easier. I rolled up the sleeves of my faded blue-grey tunic until they were above my elbows, and I had plaited my hair into a thick braid. Still, sweat ran down my forehead, and it was only going to get hotter as the day wore on.

"Valka!" Weath's brogue met my ears.

He ran down to me and took the pick-axe from my hands.

"Go on," He said. "Get some water in the Hall. I'll dig for a while."

"Thank you," I said to him.

He nodded and began to work. The Hall was rather empty, save for several women milling about with jugs of water. I filled a horn and drank, grateful for the cool liquid as it moved down my throat. I walked about the great room, stopping when I reached a short hallway. The door at the end was ajar, and I could hear sounds within. Slowly, silently I walked forward. From here I could see well enough that it was a store room. I realized within a moment that the sounds I heard were two people, breathing heavily. I looked inside and my breath caught. Herger was there, his mouth pressed firmly against that of the Arab. After a moment, Herger drew back, kissing instead down Eben's jaw, his neck, his shoulder, leaving a trail of wetness in his wake. He took the Arab's skin into his mouth once he reached the shoulder, sucking and biting. His mouth, once he had removed it, left a bruise in its place.

"We should get back to work," The Arab said, breathless.

I felt a rush of heat move up my spine, unsure what to think. Could I really be feeling arousal at the sight of two men? My heart began to race as I saw three women headed this way, dispelling my thoughts. I cleared my throat loudly, and Herger's eyes met mine through the crack in the door. He released Eben quickly, and began rummaging through a barrel. The Arab, confused at first, quickly realized what was going on as the voices of the women drew closer.

"Excuse me," I said to them, making my voice heavy and tired. "Can you get me some water? I cannot take one more step."

Two of the women nodded, concern filling their eyes. One went for a jug and horn, the other for a damp cloth. The third woman went past me into the store room. As she opened the door, I saw that Herger and the Arab now looked completely normal, and very lost.

"We came in here looking for extra hammers," The Arab said.

"Can't find an Ox in this room," Herger said irritably.

The woman gave him a stern look, but seemed to take pity on Eben, who (even I must admit) was very good at looking confused. "Come with me," She said to him, not caring if Herger followed.

She led the Arab out, upon which Herger put a hand on the wall, next to my head. Effectively, he barred my way.

"What you saw…" He began.

"Will not leave my mind," I told him. "You can be sure of that. I will mention this to no one."

He smiled gratefully, planting a sweaty kiss on my forehead. "Little Valka! Thank you."

I nodded. Herger had been my friend for many years, and if he decided to love someone, be it man or woman, I would be no friend if I did not support him.

"You choose well," I added. "He is quite handsome, for an Arab."

Herger kept his face impassive, but I saw the blush that came to his ears. He let his arm fall away, and I returned to Weath, who was leaning on the pick-axe and panting like a dog.

"Go on," I said to him.

He smiled and limped into the Hall. For a good while I worked, thinking of nothing but the task at hand. A drop of sweat ran down my neck, and the image of Herger's mouth on Eben returned to me. Again, I began to dig, but now with a sudden anger welling in my chest. The thought of Herger loving who he pleased! It seemed so wrong, when I thought of what I must do when this is over.

Marry.

I spat on the ground. I would rather die! I cleaved at the muddy trench, rage grinding my teeth together. Oh, how I wish I were a man! I brought the pick axe up again, but it never came down. Buliwyf had grabbed the handle, stopping me.

"Is your fury for the earth, Valka?" He asked me in his smooth, low voice.

I let go of the axe, which he placed on the ground.

"It's the heat," I lied. "I've had about enough of it."

A corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Come, rest a while."

Who was I to refuse?


	5. Chapter 5: The Fire Worm

Buliwyf led me to a hill, some distance away from the Great Hall. A ring of people had gathered there—it looked like a duel was about to take place. Indeed, Eben ran up to Herger, who stood by three shields, a sword in one hand.

"What happened?" The Arab asked, barely containing himself.

Herger smiled. "An engineering dispute!"

"You notice he is bigger than you?" Eben asked, pointing to the giant red-headed man with arms like fir trees. I recognized him as one of Prince Wyglif's friends.

"Yes," Herger said, nonchalant.

"And younger?"

"Yes! Bet on him, if you like!"

"I may!" Eben cried.

The Arab scoffed as Herger strode out into the ring, tapping his shield twice to begin the round. I looked at Buliwyf, who was fully absorbed in the match. I had never seen him out of armor. He wore a simple white tunic, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a pair of tan leather trousers and boots. It suited him. The more I looked at him, the more I wanted to touch his face, feel the muscles in his arms, run my fingers through his hair. I looked at the Arab, instead, who came marching up to us where we stood.

"You must stop it!" He said to Buliwyf.

When Buliwyf said nothing, Eben turned to me.

"No," I said to him, before he could speak. "I am a spectator, nothing more. He is the one you talk to."

Defeated, Eben stormed off and tried to shift his focus to the mountains on the horizon.

"You are friends with the Arab?" Buliwyf asked me.

"I consider myself so, yes."

A pause. Herger's second shield had broken, and he took in a loud gulp of air before picking up the third.

"For three and thirty years I have been here, in this life," Buliwyf said. "I never thought I would travel with an Arab in my company."

I smiled. "He is determined; it has served him well so far."

"Your wound is healing well," He said.

I realized he must have been looking at me, but I did not meet his eyes. Rather, I changed the subject.

"How long do we have before they attack again?"

"Tonight, I think."

So soon! Before I could reply, Eben came to us a second time.

"He is going to get killed!" He said through gritted teeth.

"It is possible," Buliwyf said calmly, enraging the Arab further.

I couldn't help but smile at his devotion to Herger.

"You think this is funny?" He asked me.

"When will you learn?" I asked him. "Our fates are fixed, Eben."

He frowned, but stood near me. Herger lost his last shield, and leaned on his sword as the red-head went in for the killing blow. At the last possible moment, Herger rolled out of the way, throwing the other man off balance. As he stumbled forward, Herger whirled around and brought his sword down, decapitating the younger man with one swift stroke. He came over to us, and I blinked twice. For a moment, I thought I saw smoke coming out of Eben's ears.

"You!" The Arab said, pointing to Herger, who had just doused his head in a bucket of water. "You could have killed him at will!"

"Yes."

"Wha—why the deception?"

"Deception is the point!" Herger cried. "Any fool can calculate strength—that one has been doing it since the moment he saw us!"

Herger gestured to the prince, who was walking away through the crowd at a quick, furious pace.

"Now," Herger continued. "He has to calculate what he can't see!"

Eben thought for a moment. "And fear…what he doesn't know."

Herger struck his hand against his own forehead, signaling that Eben was correct.

"As you say, foolish," Buliwyf said, his voice sending a shiver up my spine. "And expensive…we will miss his sword."

I smiled and spoke to Herger before returning to work. "Well done, my friend."

He nodded, and continued his conversation with Eben.

I worked well into the night, taking little rest. With the distraction gone, my mind returned to marriage. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that my fate would lay in a hearth and home, not a death in battle that I so longed for. There would be no place in Valhalla for me, and I was terrified at the thought.

"Valka!" Helfdane called to me from the Great Hall. "Odin's sake, girl, stop working and come eat!"

I threw down my pickaxe. "I'll be at the watch-tower!" I said to him, suddenly desperate for solitude.

"Be on your guard, then—there is no watch tonight!"

I nodded to him and went to the stables, mounting Aska and riding away at a fierce gallop. At that moment, I debated going on. The crossroads stood before me, empty and eerie in the sunset. Left was the watchtower; right was the unknown North Road, leading to the High Mountains.

"What do you think, Aska?" I asked him.

He whinnied and began to go left.

"Left it is."

I tied him to the watchtower and climbed a nearby pine, finding a crook and settling in. Once I was hidden from view, I relaxed. The sunset was beautiful from up here—the quiet even more precious. My eyelids grew heavy after a long while. Just as they closed, I heard hooves coming closer. Like a fool, I had left my axes mounted to Aska's saddle. I saw a great brown horse, with Edgtho astride it, wearing his leather armor. He dismounted in one fluid motion, looking at the watchtower. After a minute, he walked slowly to the tree.

"Your horse is not a very good guard, even with your axes. Besides," He called up to me. "That's my spot."

I couldn't help but smile. I climbed down, jumping to the ground.

"Take it," I said. "Not very comfortable."

Edgtho handed me some food wrapped in a linen cloth. I thanked him and began to eat, watching as he climbed the tree faster than I thought possible. I turned my gaze to the horizon. I could see some of the townspeople working in the fields, as well as fog coming over the mountains.

"A mist is forming!" I called up to Edgtho, hoping he could understand me through a mouthful of bread and cheese.

"I see it," He said.

Some minutes passed. I finished my meal quickly, my shoulders flexing as I felt the tension in the air. When a horn sounded a moment later, I was not surprised. Edgtho craned his neck backwards, his eyes falling on something in the distance.

"The worm!" I heard him say, muttering it like a curse on his breath. "They've roused the fire-worm!"

I ran to the watch tower and picked up the mallet, hitting the metal plate that hung there. It sent a warning across the stillness, one that made the townspeople in the fields run for the safety of the Hall.

"Ride ahead," Edgtho cried. "I will follow presently!"

I did as he asked, coming through the gates as the defenses were readied. The spikes we built to spear the horses were lowered—Halga, the strongest of our number, drove a heavy hammer into logs to keep them in place.

"Where is Edgtho?" Weath asked me as I dismounted.

"He is not far behind me!"

Sure enough, the Scout rode into the city before five minutes had passed. Helfdane put a hand on my shoulder, holding my mail and leather jacket in his free hand. I thanked him and hastily put them on, taking my axes from Aska's saddle. A stable-boy led the mount away, and our attention turned to the fire-dragon. The mist had spread, covering the land before us and the fields to the east. The flame slithered down the hillside like a serpent, and I could not quell the terror or the bile that rose in my throat.

"Come, little brother!" I heard Herger say to the Arab. "It is beginning!"

I smiled at Eben as he passed. It was reassuring to know that I was not the only one who was nervous. He returned the gesture and followed Herger down the trench, where they waited. At first, there was nothing but fog.

"What's that in the field, below the watch tower?" Weath asked, speaking to no one directly.

We all strained our eyes to see, but Rethel had better vision.

"It is a child," He said.

"Look at her," Herger mused. His voice was solemn; the fire-worm was not far from her.

"Open the gate," the Arab said. "Open it!"

He ran for his horse, as Weath and the others reached the gates.

"Push!" Weath cried, throwing his weight against the barriers.

"No!" Skeld cried. "You need to raise the spikes first, help me!"

Herger, meanwhile, walked calmly to where Skeld was and put a hand on his back.

"Down."

The Arab and his horse leapt over the gates just as Herger and Skeld landed face-down in the dirt.

He rode until he was swallowed by the mists. I couldn't see him anymore, and I found myself praying to Odin to protect him. It was agonizing minutes before he returned, the men slamming the gate shut behind him. Once the spikes were in place, Herger spoke up.

"So you saw the fire worm?" He asked Eben.

The Arab shook his head. "Cavalry, hundreds of them, with torches!"

Herger's eyes rolled back into his head. "I would have preferred a dragon."

I fought off the urge to laugh, instead taking my place at the walls, between Helfdane and Skeld.

"This will be a good battle, cousin," Skeld said to me.

"Don't do anything foolish."

He laughed, genuinely amused. "Me? Foolish? I am wounded by your words, Valka."

I elbowed him in the side. "I want to celebrate our victory with you when this is over, Skeld."

He smiled. "We will have many tales to tell, I am sure of that."

Then, all conversation ceased. The only thing to do now was wait; the sound of horses became ever louder.

In no time at all, they were upon us. I ducked behind the spikes as the Wendol hurled their torches at us, several of them catching on the thatched roofs. Torches were soon followed by spears and arrows. They began to come over the gates, even as their horses reared up against the spikes, unable to clear them. I swung at one that jumped down above me, my axe hitting him with a satisfying crack in the shin. He fell to the ground, and I finished him with a swift stroke to his throat. I took down another, and another, and another. The Arab hadn't lied when he said how great the Wendol's numbers were. They just kept coming! I looked up as a torch flew past, igniting the stable roof. Skeld climbed up the side of the structure and reached out for it. He managed to dislodge it, but not before a spear pinned him to the thatch. Four more pierced his body, and he was dead within moments.

"No!" I cried out and jumped onto the next enemy I saw, fury and adrenaline coursing through me. I took the Wendol from his perch on the fence with an axe to his stomach, pulling it out with a cry of rage before I moved on to the next. It did not take long for them to breach the gate. They rode in lines of cavalry, four across, and there seemed to be no stopping them.

"On me!" I heard Buliwyf's cry across the courtyard.

Dodging bodies and flames, I sprinted toward him, keeping my eyes on his sliver-plated armor. Once I was in range, he threw me a wooden spike.

"Arab!" He called, doing the same for him.

"What do I do with it?" Eben cried.

"Put your foot on it, and stand!"

We did as directed, and waited. The cavalry line came closer, until finally they were upon us. At about the same moment, the reality that the horses were not going to stop hit home, for both Eben and I. The Arab cried out, partly from fear, as the horses were speared through the chest by our guard. The Wendol fell to the ground, and we slew them as they came. Their main defense broken, it did not take long for the enemy to retreat. Buliwyf raised his sword in triumph, but I did not stay there. I threw down my spike and ran to the stables, climbing to the roof and wrenching the spears from Skeld's lifeless body. I rolled him onto his back and took his head into my lap, no longer able to mask my sorrow behind anger and war. I sobbed into his hair, stroking his face with one hand. Soon, I felt someone try to take his body from me, and I held tighter.

"Valka, you must let him go!" Edgtho's voice. "He must go to Valhalla."

At this, I relented. I dried my eyes and followed him from the roof, walking back to the courtyard in a daze. I saw Herger talking to the Arab, then coming towards me as a woman with long blonde hair took Eben's hand into her own.

"Skeld, Halga, Roneth, and Rethel go to Valhalla this night," He said to me.

I nodded, resigned. Now, there were only seven of us: Buliwyf, Herger, Edgtho, Helfdane, Weath, the Arab, and myself. If the Wendol launched another cavalry attack like this one, our chances were slim indeed. Herger handed me a horn of honey-mead; where he had gotten it, I did not know. I let it go down to my stomach, but I felt nothing except the fires around us. Even as they burned down, our fallen warriors turning to ash with them, I knew no relief.

"Come," Herger said at last. "This is no place for us."

He put an arm over my shoulders as we walked, and I was grateful for it; I returned the gesture, moving listlessly into the Great Hall.


	6. Chapter 6: Marriage

My stomach growled loudly as the rain poured down outside. It was the evening of my third day. My throat was sore from calling for help; I couldn't speak much louder than a whisper, at this point. My water was almost gone, though I had drawn it out with success these past days. I reached up and held it to the rain, which seemed to work, although the process was slow. When the bottle had filled half way—after about five or six minutes—I switched arms. I would be able to use this one less, but at least it would fill my bottle up again. I screwed the cap back on and pulled my hoodie back over my head, putting the bottle into my purse and laying down. The stack of papers was almost finished, now—Valka's story was almost over. I shuddered to think about what I would do if I had to spend much more time in this place. My heart went out too her, both at the loss of her cousin and at her final hours in a cave. I began to understand the loneliness, and I knew of course the sorrow of loss. Sleep came quickly, and I prayed that—if I did die in here—death would come quickly, too.

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It was later that night that the rain began. I stood on the hill where Herger had fought his duel, the water soaking through my tunic and trousers. Perhaps this was my fate, after all…to survive. Survive, and marry, and bear children, like all good women must. I felt hot tears course down my face, but made no move to wipe them away. They were a sharp contrast to the cold rain, and I relished the sensation. After a while, I felt myself shivering. I walked into the Great Hall, passing through the central room, where many of the survivors—warriors and townspeople alike—slept deeply. Quietly I entered what I thought was an empty chamber. I was surprised to see a fire burning in the hearth. Buliwyf had laid his fur cloak on the stone floor. His armor was by the partially open window, and every now and again I heard a chime of rain as it hit metal. He had changed into plain clothes; I could tell by his position that the stared pensively into the flames. I made to back out of the room.

"Stay," He said softly.

I walked forward, pulling the door closed behind me. He turned his head toward me, frowning at my drowned state. In one fluid motion, he stood to his full height and walked toward me, taking hold of my shoulders.

"You are shaking," He said.

I looked to the floor as a blush crept to my cheeks. He stood so close; I could feel the warmth of his body against mine. The light from the fire played in his hair, and he looked like a God among men. He brought a hand up to my face, tracing the scar near my ear with two fingers. His brow furrowed, and he brought his thumb to a stray tear that fell slowly down my cheek.

"This is not rain," He said. "What troubles you?"

"It seems the All-Father wishes me to become a wife and mother," I said simply.

He studied me for a moment, his eyes moving to the necklace I wore—a spiral token on a leather cord. After a moment, he returned to my face. I released myself from his hands and walked to the window, my heart sinking.

"Father will marry me to an old man, I am certain of it." I spoke slowly, trying to keep my emotions in check. "I will be a widow before I am thirty years on this earth!"

There was silence, and then I heard Buliwyf inhale as if to speak. Regardless, I found my voice first.

"If I were given a choice, I would wed a young, strong man…of my own choosing! No good can come of this! My father has slain me, Buliwyf."

I felt his hands on my shoulders after a moment. He leaned his head down, his hair tickling my skin. His teeth nipped my ear, and the heat returned to my stomach.

"Marry me, then," He whispered.

I turned to face him. "What?"

He took my face in one massive hand. "Marry me, Valka."

I ran one hand down his face, my mind and heart racing. Before I could reply, he brought his mouth to mine. His tongue slipped between my teeth, tasting me like a man who was given water after wandering through a desert. I melted under his mouth, but he put an arm around my waist to steady me. I reached up and ran my hands through his hair, the hairs on my own skin rising in pleasure. He gave what I thought to be a mix between a moan and a growl, and I was lost. His strong arms lifted me off the ground—I must have been light as a feather to him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he carried me to the furs before the hearth. His mouth moved to my neck, nipping gently at the tender spot where my shoulders began. He stripped the wet clothes from me ever-so-slowly; the chill in my bones began to seep away. I found my hands wandering to his waist, lifting the tunic off of him. He shrugged it over his head, the muscles in his back moving like water and setting my blood on fire. I brought my lips to his chest; grazing his nipples with my teeth as I inhaled the scent of him—wood smoke, and pure masculinity. He lay down, and I dragged my tongue down his torso, following the trail of hair until I came to his waist. I smiled and pulled the boots from his feet, his trousers close behind. He was naked before me, and I was humbled. His prick was long and throbbing, pointing up towards his chest. I brought a hand to it and stroked him, slowly. He moaned and threw his head back, slamming his eyes shut as my fingers played on the sensitive head. Part of me enjoyed having such control over him.

I took his length into my mouth, watching with wicked delight as he grabbed at the cloak, the soft white fur spilling through the gaps in his fist. I could feel the wetness in my mouth, and knew he didn't have long. His breath came in thick, panting measures. I used my tongue to tease the head, and after a moment he shuddered, emptying himself into my mouth with several long moans. I swallowed hard, and then returned to his lips. I relished the taste of him, the feel of his hot tongue on mine. They writhed together like two snakes, exploring every inch of each other. I pulled back for a moment, and he rolled me onto my back in one swift movement. I was both terrified and excited by the sheer strength of him. He took my breast into his mouth, sucking the hardened nipple, while kneading the other with his hand. The feel of the fur cloak against my body was divine; I moved my hands against it with ecstasy. His mouth moved down my abdomen with slow, hot kisses, finally coming to the darkness between my legs. He spread my limbs apart and entered me with one finger, pushing it in until it was gone. I gasped and my eyes fluttered shut, my head falling back as he added a second finger and began to move back and forth. I felt the heat move through me, a slow burn that was tantalizing and delicious.

My hips bucked against his hand as a wave of pleasure broke over me, and I was still riding it when he took his hand away. He moved above me, guiding himself into me. I moaned as I took the length of him, and again as he pulled back. He began to thrust, his movements slow and deep at first. I could hear moans, and realized after a minute that they belonged to me. We fell into a rhythm, and I could feel the orgasm building inside me. He brought his face close to mine, his mouth devouring my neck. I grabbed at his hair and cried out his name, coming hard as he pulled me into a kiss. He thrust harder and harder, letting out a cry moments later as his seed spilled into me. We lay there, spent and separated, breathing the only sound. I had my head on his chest. I felt him shifting and pulling at something, and before I could wonder what he was doing, he put a necklace over my head. It was a unicursal Valknut, one of Odin's symbols. I smiled and reached behind my neck, loosening the cord of my own necklace. I kissed him hard, slipping the spiral over his neck as I drew away. His eyes searched mine for a moment, the blue spheres looking into the core of me. He kissed me deeply, then, one hand twining in my freed auburn hair.

"We are married now," He said softly, against my mouth.

"Yes."

And so it was that I met the All-Father's fate.

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The morning had come and gone. I put down the page once I had finished it, and looked at the amulet in my hands. I traced the design of the Valknut, a slight smile on my face. Valka and Buliwyf married, and this was the proof of it. She must have loved him very much; I could feel it, not only reading her tale, but in this necklace. Buliwyf was a proud man; a brave man. I found myself suddenly overcome with sadness at the thought of their separation. Valka had died in this cave, alone. How terrible that must have been, to meet your end away from those you love! I was reaching the end of the tale, now. Part of me did not want to know the conclusion, but I felt that I owed it to Valka to finish. I propped my hoodie behind me like a cushion, and returned to the runes.

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My mind snapped into consciousness before my eyes opened. I could feel something—a hand on my face and hair, gentle caresses that roused me from sleep. My eyes opened, and I smiled at Buliwyf, who was propped up on an elbow above me.

"Hello, husband."

He leaned down and kissed me, his tongue darting into my mouth.

"Good morning, wife," He said.

I felt a surge of happiness hearing those words. I took his face in my hand and brought him down to kiss me. We were gentle at first, our mouths and minds still groggy with the effects of sleep. He slanted his mouth over mine; blood rushed to my cheeks as he devoured me.

A knock on the door froze us, mid-kiss.

"Buliwyf!" It was Helfdane's voice. "The King requests your presence at once."

I felt his muscles move as he answered, loud as he dared so close to my ear.

"I hear you, Helfdane. Give me a few moments."

"Aye."

There were footsteps as Helfdane walked away, and we were left with each other again. Buliwyf kissed me once more and stood, dressing into plain clothes. I watched as he tucked my necklace beneath his tunic; I decided I would do the same. He extended a hand and lifted me to my feet, whereupon I dressed as well. As I pulled my dry shirt over my head, I felt him plant a kiss on the nape of my neck. I turned to him and met his mouth, loving the feel of his hair over my face. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him as our tongues met again. He broke away suddenly, and walked from the room, the door closing behind him. I smiled and picked up his cloak, shaking it out before hanging it with his armor. For ten minutes, I waited. Then, quietly, I slipped from the room and into the Hall. Buliwyf and the King were absorbed in conversation; I was not seen until I stepped outside.

Helfdane sat on the wall nearby, sharpening his sword with a flat whetstone.

"Did you sleep well, little Valka?" He asked me.

"I did," I replied, willing the blush in my cheeks to disappear.

Thankfully, Helfdane did not look at me for very long. It was not until later that afternoon that all of us gathered in the Great Hall, dressed in our armor once again. Queen Wielow had also joined us, at her husband's request. Edgtho was the last to enter, bringing with him the corpse of a Wendol. He flung the dead weight from his shoulder and onto the floor. Helfdane, still nursing a bandage on his right arm, walked over to the corpse and removed the bear hide from its head with his boot.

"It looks like the mating of a man and some beast," Weath said, disgusted.

"It is a man," Eben said with certainty, drawing surprised looks from Buliwyf and Herger.

"If it is a man," Buliwyf said. "It must sleep. If it sleeps, it has a lair, and we have a trail."

Herger looked astonished. "Attack _them_?"

Buliwyf looked up. "Is there a choice?"

He had a point. There was a silence. It was the only way to proceed, but that didn't mean we had a plan.

"Come with me," Wielow said. "There is a woman who can help."


	7. Chapter 7: Valhalla and Victory

She led us out of the main city, into a small village just east of Hrothgar's hall. The huts were built of mud and branches—the forest was only feet away.

"There is a woman here," Wielow explained. "She was old when my grandmother was a little girl…she is quite mad."

"The perfect advisor," Herger said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I held back a laugh as we came to a campfire. The woman was wrapped in a black cloak, her clouded eyes staring in two different directions.

"We seek your council, Madam," Wielow said to the woman.

"We? Or he? Step closer, Buliwyf."

He did as she asked. "You know me?"

She huffed, and spoke what she thought should have been the obvious answer. "I have ears! Warrior says the wind; chieftain says the rain! But why seek you me? Met you your match?"

He did not look pleased.

"Wars are won in the will," The crone continued. "Perhaps you've been fighting in the wrong field. Slaughter them till you rot…you will accomplish nothing! Find the root; strike the will."

"How?" Buliwyf asked.

"The mother of the Wendol…it is she they revere. She is the will."

"Where do I seek her?" He asked, his patience wearing thin.

"She is the earth, seek her in the earth."

He sighed, frustrated. She spoke again as he walked away.

"And Buliwyf," She said. "Beware the leader of their warriors…he wears the horns of power. He too you must kill!"

He said nothing, and we continued on.

The Arab mounted his horse. "Do we have anything resembling a plan?"

I shrugged in response. Herger, on the other hand, smiled widely.

"Ride till we find them," He said. "Kill them all."

The Arab rolled his eyes. We went in a line from the city, Buliwyf and one of Hrothgar's wolfhounds in the lead. For a long while we rode. The marks of their cavalry were in plain sight as we moved through the forest.

"A child could follow this," Helfdane said.

"They have no fear," Herger agreed. "No fear of us at all."

The Arab and I looked at each other, worry creasing our faces. Did they know we were coming? A bark from Hrothgar's wolfhound drew my attention upward. At the crest of a hill, the burnt remains of huts still smoldered. They were surrounded by bones, piled waist high in places.

"Bear skulls," Herger said.

"The dog does not approve," Weath added, the wolfhound growling loudly.

I was about to reply, but then I looked at the Arab. He sat straight up on his horse, and I could see the thoughts racing over his eyes.

"Bears," He finally said. "The claws, the headdresses, the skulls…they want us to think they are bears! How do you hunt a bear?" The question was louder, addressed to no one in particular.

"Chase it down with dogs," Herger said.

"No, no," The Arab insisted, cutting him off. "How do you hunt a bear in winter?"

"Go in its cave," I said. "With spears."

"Where is the cave?" The Arab asked.

By this time, we knew the answer.

"It's in the Earth," Weath said, echoing the wise-woman.

At this, we looked to the top of the hill. Edgtho rode toward us.

"The next glen!" He called. "There are many fires."

"Is there a cave?" Buliwyf called.

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To our good fortune, both Edgtho and the Arab had been correct. We could see the Wendol from our perch above them. They had built bridges across the river that went down into the chasm, and their movements were slow—almost lethargic—much like a hibernating bear. It did not take us long to formulate a strategy; Edgtho volunteered with Weath to disguise themselves and kill the Wendol that guarded the entrance, on the other end of the bridge. The rest of us followed, the light from our torches doing little to scatter the inky blackness as we descended. It seemed like we went down for hours, but the river became louder, and that was a good sign. The path before us forked. Edgtho went ahead, but came back just as soon as he disappeared. He gestured silently to our Armor—anything that made noise must come off. With no other choice, I removed my mail jacket and left it on the pile of gear. All of us, save Helfdane—he refused to be parted with his leather breastplate—were now only in pants and tunics, our only protection the weapons on our backs. The tunnel shrank in size until we were crawling on our stomachs. We were moving through a kind of trench, straight across the living quarters of the Wendol. Helfdane's breastplate loosed stones as he moved, and I tried not to breathe as one of the Wendol stood up, his ears pricked for any noise. My eyes locked with Buliwyf as he looked back, one hand on his sword. The Wendol stood for one more minute, but finally he returned to his fellows. We continued until we reached another cliff, overlooking the falls. Below us, a group of Wendol had gathered around a fire. They were chanting in some strange language, and it became clear that this must be where the Mother lived.

"How will we reach them?" The Arab asked in a hushed voice.

Buliwyf looked around. "There," He said, pointing to another cliff behind the falls. "We will swing across, and then we will have to swim."

The others nodded, but the Arab turned a strange shade of green.

"You do not like heights?" I asked him.

"I do not like heights," He repeated.

"There is no other way, little brother," Herger said to him, a grin fighting for control of his face.

"You will not go first," I told him, trying to offer comfort. "It will not be difficult to cross."

Edgtho went first, Buliwyf after him. Weath and the Arab followed, and Herger winked encouragingly at me before disappearing into the falls.

"Will you go last?" I asked Helfdane.

"Aye," He said. "I'd rather get stuck here than you, Valka. Now catch that rope and go on."

I nodded, one hand struggling to grip the wet rope as it came back to me. I held it as tightly as I could, the water shockingly cold as I swung through it. I slammed into the cliff face, slipping down it with a gasp as I lost my hold on the rock. Weath had grabbed the rope and sent it back to Helfdane, but he was too late for me. I found my fingers slipping on moss and water, and I thought for certain I would fall. A hand grabbed my wrist and lifted me up; I found myself face to face with Buliwyf. He nodded to me, and I returned the gesture. Once Helfdane came across, we began to climb down the cliff. The water was frigid, and I held my axes above my head as we came closer to the Wendol. Buliwyf held a knife in between his teeth, keeping as low as he could. Edgtho came upon them first, and the fight began in earnest. I jumped from the water and drove my axe into the stomach of one, throwing the other into the spine of a second, where it landed with a splintering sound. Herger pulled it from the corpse of the Wendol and threw it back to me, before looking to a cave that was lined with skulls.

"Go!" He cried to Buliwyf. "Finish her!"

Buliwyf hesitated, almost reluctant to leave us to the Wendol. I pushed him back toward the cave, my lips meeting his for the briefest of moments.

"Go on!" I said.

He seemed reassured, and disappeared into the cave to face the Mother of the Wendol.

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I do not know what transpired between the Mother and Buliwyf, only that when he came out he was white as the snow on the mountains.

"Is it done?" Herger asked, breathless, as more Wendol ran above us, winding down the long path in our direction.

"It is done."

"A path leads down," Edgtho cried. "Down here!"

We followed him, running as fast as we were able. Even so, the sounds of the Wendol grew louder. They were gaining on us, and we all knew it. Helfdane fell heavily against a rock, and he did not get up. I stopped, coming to his side as the others continued on.

"What is it?" I asked him.

His hand was pressed to a wound above his heart; blood had begun to emerge at the corners of his mouth.

"I think," He said, each word heavy as a stone. "I have run as far as I care to go, little Valka."

I bit back tears, taking one of his hands. "I do not want to leave you to them, Helfdane."

He smiled. "Today was a good day. Go on, now. Go."

I nodded and ran. After a few minutes, I came to the others.

"Helfdane?" Herger asked me.

I shook my head.

We had reached a dead-end. I could hear thunder around us, as Herger suggested we fight in pairs.

"Thunder!" I said to them.

"Just what we need!" Weath replied. "Rain, on top of it all!"

"No," Edgtho told him, realizing what I meant. "The thunder cliffs! There must be a way to swim out!"

The pool near us was our only hope.

"What if we drown?" The Arab asked.

"Well," Herger said, ever the optimist. "If they do not follow, we will know why! Too far to swim!"

We dove into the water, and I took a deep breath. I realized as I breathed that I had a pain in my side. Looking down, there was a gash there I had not seen before. I held my breath and dove. The tunnel was long and twisted, and after a while my lungs began to burn. Edgtho was in the lead, and I saw him swim up through a hole in the rock face. The water above him was clear, and he must have reached the ocean. I made to follow, but my boot got stuck beneath a loose rock. I struggled with it, the sudden force of water slamming me into a jagged stone—a stone that dug right into the gash on my side, tearing it open even further. Blood rushed into the water, and I lacked the strength to pull myself through the hole. I got my torso through, but my arms would pull me no further. Edgtho dove again, swimming down to me as I released the air in my lungs. He grabbed me under my arms and pulled, his eyes widening as he saw the blood all around me. We reached the surface and I breathed in blessed air, Edgtho and Herger helping me to the shore. Buliwyf fell to his knees as we reached the sand, looking even paler than before. Ahead of me, I saw a roughly hewn cave. It looked like a storage cellar, but it had been abandoned for one reason or another. I crawled toward it as Edgtho and Herger helped Buliwyf to his feet. What I did not expect was the drop. I tumbled inside, pain shooting like fire through my veins.

"Go on," I heard Herger cry. "I will follow!"

I did not hear a reply. My mind became clouded, and I did not know how long I lay there. I only knew the pain in my chest, spread from the deep wound in my side. It seemed an eternity; the only sound my labored breathing and the waves that broke like thunder on the cliffs outside.

"Valka?" Herger's voice.

I opened my eyes and saw him jump down, landing on the packed dirt of the cave with barely a noise. He ran to me and examined my wound.

"How did this happen?" He asked, still soaking wet from our escape.

"I do not know," I told him.

He made to remove my tunic, perhaps to see what could be done.

"Leave it," I said, placing a hand over his. "I am finished, my friend."

I saw the tears in his eyes. "What would you have me do, little Valka?"

"Stay with me."

He took my head into his lap and began to idly stroke my hair.

"Someone must have lived here," He said at last, looking around. "There are papers, and the embers still glow in the hearth."

"I think I will write my story down, Herger."

He understood immediately. With effort, I sat up, bracing myself against the earthen wall. For hours I wrote, until the tool dropped from my hand.

"Herger," I said, my own voice failing. "Finish it."

He took the writing utensil from me and wrote for a while. Suddenly, he stopped. His eyes were glued to the necklace that fell at my chest, barely rising with my shallow breath.

"That is Buliwyf's," He said quietly, realization dawning on his face.

"We are married," I told him. "Tell my father, when you see him."

Despite himself, Herger could not hold back the tears that fell from his eyes. "Your Buliwyf has been poisoned, by the Mother of the Wendol."

I was not surprised. I saw the color gone from Buliwyf's face when he told us the task was done. I nodded, but said nothing.

"I will tell Voltarr," Herger said. "My child will bear your name, Valka."

I smiled at him, and with the last of my strength returned my head to his lap.

"You require a wife, first, my friend," I said weakly.

He laughed, and continued to write. Sometimes I would dictate the tale, other times he would write with no prompting from me. I could only wonder what his words were. My vision began to darken, and I felt no more pain from the wound in my side. I blinked twice, and saw my mother standing in the corner. She wore a white dress, her chestnut hair in waves to her slim waist. She had a gentle smile on her small face, and after a moment she held out her hand to me.

I did not speak, only lifted my arm and reached for her. Herger said nothing, but fresh tears came to his eyes. He knew as well as I that my time on this earth was over. Behind my mother, two women appeared. They were clothed in armor that glowed like the sun, with rich red velvet capes billowing out behind them. Massive grey wings spread from their shoulders, and on their fair-haired heads they wore grey and black winged bands. In their left hand, they each held a tall spear. I felt my heart beat faster—the Valkyries had come for me. They smiled at me, and bid me take my place among them. I heard Herger talking softly.

"Lo, there do I see my father. Lo, there do I see my mother, and my sisters, and my brothers. Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning. Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them, in the halls of Valhalla, where they brave may live forever."

I felt my mother's hand, and knew no more.

I wrapped Valka in the linens that were on the bed here. With effort, I lifted her from the cave and burned her body on the beach, facing the sunrise. Buliwyf's amulet remains here, with the story. I will wall this cave shut, so that her tale will live forever. My heart aches, but I know now that I will take a wife and be a father to children, as I promised little Valka. We returned to Hrothgar's city, where the final battle was fought. The Queen was tending to Buliwyf, but she left us when I entered and asked to speak with him. I told him of Valka's passing, and saw a look of grim determination on his face. He looked inches from death, but I knew that he would fight with us. I was not wrong. Buliwyf came out as the rain poured from the sky. He slew the Horned-One with his last remaining strength, and the Wendol fled. Buliwyf thrust his blade into the ground and sat, triumphant, as thunder roared above us. Within moments, he had gone. I know he and Valka will find each other again in Valhalla, and that gives me peace. The Arab will return home and write his own account, as he promised Buliwyf. Their story will not end here, and I am glad of it. My children will know it, my grandchildren will know it, and my great-grandchildren will know it. I have nothing of mine to leave here, nothing except these words, to tell you that I am true and real—not a spirit of the mists, but a man, who was friend to the bravest warriors on this earth. As the Arab said, I remain a true and faithful servant, and Herger is my name.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I wiped my tears away as I put the last page back into the chest. I moved closer to the entrance, and began to weep in earnest for the lives lost all those years ago. Still, as evening turned to night and night became the morning, I began to worry for myself. It had been one week, now, and I was desperate for help. I called and called again, until it felt like my throat would split open and bleed. Tears came again to my eyes, rolling down my cheeks like water over a fall. I closed my eyes and breathed in the salt air, hoping it would not be my last sunrise. Suddenly, I felt something strange. A rough surface against my face, followed by something wet and cold. I looked up into the eyes of a dog, who wore a rescue vest on his back. He barked twice, and I heard feet running toward him. A man with a helmet and a matching rescue jacket smiled at me.

"Don't worry, Ma'am," He said. "We're gonna get you out of there."

I smiled despite myself. After a minute of muffled voices, the man jumped into the cave and spoke to me.

"Are you hurt?" He asked.

"Just my arm," I said.

He nodded. "We'll have a medic take a look at that. I'm gonna lift you up and my friend Hank is gonna help you out, okay?"

"I have a purse here," I said to him. "And that chest there—please don't leave them behind."

He nodded. "We'll get them, but let's worry about you."

He lifted me from the cave and into the arms of another man, who I assumed was Hank. He was stockier than his friend, and lifted me to the surface with ease. He carried me to the waiting ambulance, where the paramedics disinfected and bandaged my arm. They examined my license once my purse and the chest had been brought up.

"This is her," One of them said. "The girl on the news that's been missing. Better call her mom and let her know we've got her."

I smiled at how relieved my mother would be, and didn't struggle as they put an oxygen mask over my face. Everything was going to be all right now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

One week later, life had returned to normal. I was back in my apartment, Valka's chest now safe in a glass case in my bedroom. I was working on getting the manuscript published, and so far it was going well. I had an editor who showed interest, and things were looking up. I pulled on my blue pea-coat and white striped scarf, walking out the front door and into the cold morning. I walked into my usual Starbucks, this time garnering applause from the staff behind the counter.

"Welcome back!" One of them said.

"I watched the news every day you were missing," The girl named Venora said. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

I smiled at her. "So am I."

I took out my wallet and ordered my usual mocha and pumpkin bread.

"On the house," Venora said with a grin.

"Thanks," I said.

I took my order and was about to leave. I looked outside at the wind as it howled, remembering how bitingly cold it was. Instead, I sat down at a table in the corner, near the windows. For a while it was quiet, just the music and my pen as it scrabbled in my journal, continuing the story of Valka and Buliwyf.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Asked a familiar voice.

I looked up. The tall, bespectacled man had returned, a folded newspaper in one hand and a coffee in the other.

"Go ahead," I said with a smile.

He sat down and held out his hand.

"Benjamin," He said.

"Valerie," I told him. "Nice to meet you."

"This is going to sound strange," He said. "But have we met before? You seem very familiar."

I felt a blush creeping to my cheeks, and my heart beat faster, though I didn't know why.

"I don't think so," I said. "Maybe I just have one of those faces."

He laughed. "Maybe."

It was the beginning of what I knew would be a beautiful relationship.


End file.
